Barcarolle of the White Witch
by thanatophilia
Summary: This is a happy end because you don't understand.


**Green and Gold: **4205745

**by keehaul lizzie: **241445

_read it_

* * *

She's the white witch of the boulevard these days; round hips, curving waist, and powerful.

She'd lived in Rabanastre once, the neighborhood used to say, she and her barkeep man who owns the inn where the workers all drink.

They say that royal pigeons come to her door.

She reads their letters with sad smiles and then throws them all away.

Her son is eight years old and he wants to be a sailor, he says, looking out across the Nabradia wastes, rocky and humid, fog pulling the world into close quarters… he thinks only of the ocean.

She loves her husband, silver-tongued Tomaj with his steady sense of responsibility, his affection for golden validations. They live so comfortably, even from within his tight purse.

They bring the workers, their service to their queen, and they give to the workers what comforts they can.

She brings the real business, the white witch of the main street. A weary adventurer tumbles in vulnerable, unarmed she can patch them up with her magic and her charms. The children have been practicing the little song, chanting it up and down the roads, singing it loudest for traders bringing in supplies.

Hunters pay in trinkets, some of them more valuable than the service. Some of them pricelessly arcane. Penelo takes them all with grace and those mundane she wears sometimes, those with magic she gives to Tomaj to sell.

❀

Penelo dances in the night, gives her blessing to the town with the light step of her feet. Her one indulgence, she must confess, is an excess of satin slippers, like the ballerinas do.

And it seems, when the time is right, Tomaj can see the white light from when she used to bless the queen.

"The baby will be well, even without me here," she had whispered, and seen there were pieces of Ashe which had never grown up.

She had blessed Basch too, seen the fear in Ashelia's eyes that he still carried a sword, but knew too well its uses to protest. Ashe feared the space, infinite and blue, between herself and all that she wanted. She could not be left alone with this.

A petty weakness, but human nonetheless and he had perhaps been her first love, something to be grown out of one day. A fantasy of a bygone day, to be smiled at.

Penelo smoothed Ashelia's hair. "My husband is going to Nabradia by official contract from the Queen of Dalmasca. He is overseeing the first such venture of many. I am going to be with my family."

Ashe grasped her forearm, age had made her more susceptible to the cold, but through her sleeves she felt Penelo's heat, the beauty of her skin, supple like a child's.

Her soft blonde hair with chocobo feathers woven into her step—swift and graceful, she can still kill this way—and her eyes shining like the sun at Phon Coast, so beautiful on the tropical sands. The freckles across her nose were what truly made her perfect.

"You really are happy this way, even without Vaan," Ashelia remarked, in jealous disbelief. This fair haired pirate girl was younger her, and yet she had so blossomed.

"Oh, Ashe…" Penelo murmured, awash with sympathy. "Of course I am. We all do what we can, Ashe."

She rebuilds Nabradia, taking over the thoroughfares of fledgling towns. She is the white witch of the swamp and of the town and of the valley.

Her lights dispel the creeping black of the dead; she repels it town by town. Tomaj builds an inn in each settlement, he convinces merchant friends to make time in their routes, he brings workers, and when it's time to move on, he leaves the property in someone else's hands.

When there is so little that they cannot even build a tavern, Tomaj buys a cart, forgets it when he leaves.

The rumors follow her wherever she goes. "Where is the white witch?" the adventurers wonder, planning their attack. Commissioned by the royal palace they come to help clear out the deadlands and necrohols of ruined Nabradia.

He is bound to come, Tomaj thinks, polishing glasses in this sweating heat is half the job. He speaks his mind to his wife, she smiles faintly and says, yes, she knows.

Their son asks what they're talking about, leaning on his broom.

His mother continues to smile as she washes down a table. "I am hoping your uncle will come pay me a visit soon," she says.

It's a pleasant enough lie and so she goes dancing in the streets again. Her robes white cotton and stitched with heady red lilies up and down her sides. Vaan will not make her wait long.

❀

It's the day the soldiers hack their way through the marshes to come protect the workers. Their flag is unfamiliar, but when they proudly state they're from Landis, it makes Penelo smile. When his airship lands at a clearing much farther south, she is prepared.

Filo and Llyud arrive first, playing in the air. He throws her up and she falls at an astonishing rate only to catch wing on her own and meet him at the clouds again.

Penelo wonders if their child would have wings.

Vaan and the others come later, dragging along a heavy cart in the path the Landiese have newly blazed. The faithful Cu Sith abandons her charge and throws herself, weeping, at Tomaj.

Kytes, who still stands shorter than Vaan, comes to Penelo first to hug her warmly. Then he shuffles aaside self-consciously. He doesn't know what Vaan is going to do, but Penelo can see for herself.

She smiles. "You're dressed more and more like Balthier every time I see you."

He grins back at her, tucking a thick pair of gloves into his back pocket. The charm at his waist, which matches the one in her hair, jingles and clanks like a dragon on a thin silver chain.

"He _is_ my mentor," Vaan laughs. "I have to do his image credit or both of our mystiques take a beating. Which is why I have brought a grand feast. Oh, would you look at that Landis soldiers… won't it looks so nice that the Dalmascans threw the newly established Landiese a feast… How relationship building. I feel like I'm chaperoning a date, who does Ashe think she is?."

Penelo laughs in surprise and Vaan beams. He holds out an arm to him and she goes to him, they hug and she kisses his cheek. He touches her waist lightly, well within the lines of propriety, and steers her towards the inn.

In the firelight, she dances until she's breathless. The wind stirs around her, the moon rises. She dances and the breeze is cloying sweet as it cuts through the fog. The town (one of many, none of them ever named until long after even they leave) is open to the senses, the grass wet and plush, the entire world is alive.

She glows bright with blessings. She sheds her outermost robe and looks like the girl she once was on the streets of Rabanastre, bare shoulders and midriff, wearing the finest shoes she can afford. She spins like a perfect ballerina and she twirls her hands, even without her staff.

"By Hashmal," a Landiese soldier breathes. "That really is the white witch we were told about on the Highwaste."

Both Vaan and Tomaj smile with pride, but neither of them get up to dance with her. Vaan has a few pretty trinkets to sell and Tomaj always gives him a fair deal.

At midnight, the celebration breaks up. The workers head for their tents and the soldiers for theirs. They've all got work in the morning.

"We'd better go too," Vaan says. Kytes complains, and Tomaj invites them to stay at the in where they have a few spare rooms. Penelo just smiles and hugs Vaan goodbye.

"Bring me a present next time," she says sweetly. "Something from the city."

Vaan nods thoughtfully, as if he really had to weigh her proposal. He grins back at her and looks at Tomaj.

"You want anything from the city too?"

Tomaj can think of a few things.

❀

Fran and Balthier come in the heat of the summer. They are all business propositions and temptation.

"Why me?" Penelo laughs, bemused by their earnestness.

"Who else?" Balthier wonders in reply. "If we wish to make it out of this place alive, I can think of no one better than you, in fact."

"Oh come on," Penelo scoffs. "How dangerous can this place be that you need me to hold your hands?"

"It is the most dangerous short of the Necrohol itself that I have seen," Fran shrugs. "Naturally the white witch is essential to our success. She is the best there is, it's thanks to your strength that so many hunters have come to beat the darkness of war and greed back."

"Really, Fran," the white witch answers demurely. "Not all that."

"They all know you work for the queen," Balthier inserts, drowning her demurral with his heady smugness. "You really just don't understand what your doing this has accomplished between these countries."

"Regardless, we have made you a necessity in our plans," Fran interjects. "Whatever your fee, we'll meet it. You are essential."

Penelo flushes, deep down the lines of her heart. She is not afraid to follow them into the dark, she is not afraid of the beasts which wait there. This is her life.

"You don't have to pay me," the white witch murmurs. "I'm still Penelo to you."

❀

She has not been idly dancing all this time, but more often than her staff, her weapons have been brooms and gardening equipment.

Still, she trains, practicing the staff with Fran whilst Balthier teaches her son about the rapier on the side.

"Will you be coming, Tomaj?" Balthier asks sarcastically as the younger man approaches with drinks.

Tomaj laughs and shakes his head. "I've always been more of a behind the scenes man. Penelo can take care of herself."

❀

The white witch who wanders the lands of Nabradia, she is a mythology all her own. Her tales spread to ends of Archadia and Rozaria both.

Ashelia, Larsa, and Al-Cid are all present at the dedication of the new Nabradian capitol. Penelo's slippers are of the finest silk; her robes are white cotton, stitched with golden lilies and dangling with shiny golden charms and light crystal beads. There are fresh red chocobo feathers woven in her hair.

The streets of the new capitol fill with the scent of flowers and the warm anticipation of a beautiful spring shower.

The people smile for her, watching as she glows with the strength of her blessings. No smile quite as bright as Larsa's, still so smitten with chivalry; he goes down upon one knee and kisses her knuckles when she returns.

"I've dedicated something to you," he promises, laying a hand over his heart. Penelo still finds him very beautiful and still so very young.

"Indeed, it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Al-Cid extols. "I am envious. I should like to take it home with me for there is nothing else like it."

Ashelia takes her hand gently and leads her inside the capitol buildings, stops before the statue of her in the elegant foyer.

"White marble from Rozaria," Al-Cid boasts to Penelo's blushing face.

"The white witch of Nabradia," she reads the inscription in a whisper.

❀

The first group of Aegyl to come is sent by Llyud, specifically to her. They're interested in the land, having their own and helping it to grow once again. Penelo teaches them and watches out for them.

They have been gatherers for so long; they barely understand what life can be nurtured in the thick loamy soils. They listen to her, they trust her. Her dances move something in them.

More come, following her from settlement to settlement just as the adventurers do.

❀

Basch and Noah meet in private in Tomaj's inns. A king and a judge magister, they feel safe under the white witch's watch.

"How is my niece?" Noah asks eagerly. "She was so beautiful last time I saw her."

Basch smiles fondly. "She's still beautiful and she's a good girl. A little willful, but she's very compassionate."

Noah's is expression pleased and he makes a toast to her. Penelo's son brings the brothers another round of drinks and asks them both to recount some of their adventures.

He leaves home not long after, filled to the brim with stories and desire. He heads for Phon Coast and becomes an apprentice on a ship.

He has no trouble getting letters to his mother. He always knows where she is, for even the sailors murmur, "where is the white witch?" before they ever step on shore. She is their superstition, her son's heart fills with pride.

❀

_I would love it if you would come_, the letter reads. It's the princess of Dalmasca's birthday; Queen Ashelia is desperate to have the white witch of Nabradia come. Tomaj says he would like to visit Rabanastre again, he urges her to go.

There are so many faces Penelo recognizes as she glides through the party… The Dalmascan royal family, Larsa Solidor, the Margraces, prime ministers from Landis, Bhujerba, and Nabradia, as well as a host of ambassadors for the Aegyl, Viera, Nu Mou, and Moogles guilds, as well as hunter clans.

Montblanc slips a radiant silver bangle around her wrist and bows his head; she caresses his pompom playfully and smiles, but dares not refuse the gift. She can feel the white heat of it, can feel it calling her name.

Overflowing with her own energy, Penelo gives her blessing to the princess of Dalmasca, a prayer that she may live all of her days in glory.

The surrounding dignitaries hold their breath as she dances, watching every smooth motion of her power.

❀

She moves leaves Nabradia for a time, helping to rebuild other war torn cities.

Then she and Tomaj settle in Archadia for a while. They take an apartment close to Lower Archades. Tomaj conducts business in town while Penelo dances down the steps to feed and clothe the poor.

She is the white witch of the boulevard again, but it doesn't last. There are always more people to help.

Her visit to the temple on Mt. Bur-Omisace causes a rush of pilgrims to follow in her wake.

She has not yet been to Rozaria, but she does not think there is anything keeping her away.

❀

Her son takes into the skies eventually; she would have said it inevitable.

He joins the crew that Filo and Elza make. Filo has left Vaan after Llyud's early death—so is the Aegyl way—she has a tiny dark-haired daughter with tiny red wings who she loves very much. She and Elza joined together after Rikken left the life of crime to marry a buxom hunter he met in a bar.

Queen Ashelia has her second child, a healthy boy who looks like his father. The nation rejoices as the royal family strengthens and grows.

Emporer Larsa Solidor takes a quiet young Landis girl as his queen in the name of politics, but they are happy enough. Within a few years, they too have a baby boy.

Vaan's letters are few and far between, while Ashe writes with her same weekly consistency.

Last Penelo heard, he and Kytes had been working with Balthier and Fran. They had gone looking for something.

More treasure, she's sure.

She wishes they would have come to her first, so she could have said goodbye, so she could have given them her blessing.

She faithfully winds the charm which looks so much like Revenant Wings into her hair each morning.

They'll be back.

And when they are, the white witch of Ivalice will dance her blessings until the sun rises and fills the land with its glow.

* * *

**Standard Disclaimers.**


End file.
